The Winner
by teethlikedog
Summary: Can't win 'em all. [HiltzRaven]


Hiltz/Raven yaoi - this one seriously isn't suitable for the kids, folks. If you don't like the idea of Raven and Hiltz screwing, I suggest you leave now. If you _do_, please stick around, and R&R! 

**---  
The Winner  
---**

Raven's POV 

So here we are again. One minute I was minding my own business, doing my best to stay out of his way; the next minute his mouth was on mine, his fingers twisting in my hair and sliding under my clothes...and now I'm letting him pull me into his bed yet again. 

He kisses me fiercely, forcing my mouth open and swallowing my tongue with a hunger I know all too well. His hands tear at my clothes, calloused palms brushing over my skin, teeth closing on my lower lip... This isn't passion, this is frenzy, and if I was anyone else I'd probably be afraid of him. Instead, his vicious lust excites me, sets my brain and my body on fire and makes me forget, for a while, who I am - who we both are. 

I don't know why I do this - why I let _him_ do this. I don't even _like_ Hiltz, but somehow I lose all my self-possession when he kisses me like that. I hate this feeling, this loss of control; it feels like weakness. But I go back to him time and again because...well, because he's here, and _I'm_ here, and it's just something we do. 

Reese calls me 'Hiltz's bitch' and sneers in my face, and I just smile, because I know that one day she'll regret that - that and all the other slights and insults she's ever directed my way. I'm not Hiltz's anything; I don't belong to him, or to Prozen, or to anyone. They might think they can control me, dictate to me and use me, but I'll be no one's puppet - and they won't realise that until it's too late. 

Down on his bed... His lips tickle my throat - one hand snaking up and down my thigh - and then his mouth latches onto my neck, sucking hard, and I can't help but whimper at this feeling. He laughs and sucks even harder. His hands steal down across my naked torso, hot and swift, and then they're slipping my pants down over my hips...my knees...down to my ankles and onto the floor. I'm exposed and helpless, pinned beneath his lean form - and then his tongue dives into my mouth again and I cease to care. 

He leans back, kneeling between my thighs, and pulls his own clothes off; I'm too dazed with pleasure to help him, and besides, I like to watch him strip. He's a sexy bastard - everything about him radiates a sort of diabolical allure that's near irresistible, and I can't even _pretend_ I don't want him. With a fiendish grin, he darts forward again, attacking my throat with his lips and teeth, his hot skin brushing against mine. 

Everything's simple and clear-cut when I'm with him. My quickening breath and the surge of blood in my veins reminds me that I'm alive; the touch of his hands on my body assures me I can still feel. There are only two places I feel truly aware, truly lucid - in battle, and in his bed. When I'm fighting and when I'm here, things become clear; mind and body meld together into one pure purpose, driven by lust for blood or simply by lust - and I've learned that there's precious little difference between the two. 

Long, slim fingers - slick with something - push inside me, stroking and stretching. Oh, he knows what he's doing... I can feel my heart racing, my skin flushed with heat; as his fingers hit _that_ spot it's all I can do not to groan, and I grit my teeth to stop myself making a sound. I hate being so pathetic, letting my control slip away, but what he does to me feels so good I can't help it. His breath in my ear makes me shiver with desire, and all I want right now is more of what he gives me. 

His fingers pull out, the sensations dying away all too quickly and leaving me gasping for more. I don't have long to wait. His teeth graze over my collarbone, a sound of pure lust coming from his throat; he pulls my legs up around his waist and pushes into me, and it hurts like hell but it's unbelievably good at the same time. He pauses, panting, and then he's moving inside me and I think I'm going to faint with pleasure. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, lifting my hips to meet his and whimpering under my breath as his thrusts electrify my body. 

Then he stops, and smirks at me...arrogant bastard. This is a game he likes to play - to try and make me beg, like I owe him, like I should be grateful to him for this. Well I won't beg, not in a million... 

"Hiltz!" I gasp as he moves inside me, just a little, teasing. 

"Yes?" he asks, his superior smile widening. I clamp my mouth shut, grinding my teeth together. 

"Did you want to say something, Raven?" he inquires, pulling out just a bit, then slowly, tortuously, easing back in. 

_Oh fuck, that's good..._

"Well?" 

_Not a fucking chance!_

Another slight, tormenting movement, driving me wild with need. "Please!" The word slips out before I can stop it and I bite my tongue in annoyance, loathing him. He just gives another smirk, eyes triumphant, and then starts moving again, reinstating the rhythm. Our bodies move together perfectly, uniting in a way our minds never do - never _could_. But that doesn't matter now because the hot, dark tide is rising inside me, and I'm clinging to him as if I'm about to drown, and then that great, searing, black wave surges up and plunges down over me, and I hear myself moaning... 

When I open my eyes again he's still leering at me, because he's won - not once, but twice. He made me beg, and he made me let go first, whereas _he's_ still pushing into me - deeper and harder now, intent on his own pleasure. I lie back and relax - waiting with a certain detachment for him to finish - while in my head I curse him for making me want him, and I curse myself for losing once again. But I know, deep inside, that it doesn't really matter. This is just a minor defeat in an ongoing struggle; it's in the outside world that our conflict will be resolved once and for all, someday. 

And when that day comes, _I'll_ be the winner. 


End file.
